


Sweet, sweet terror

by Vilchen



Series: Sweetie pie, we will die [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bakery AU, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Day 7: Halloween, Don’t copy to another site, Human!Yuuri, I really wanted to get this out on the 31., M/M, Witch!Mila - Freeform, YOI Spooky Week, but my brain just 'nah', scary sweets/desserts, vampire!Victor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-22 10:55:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21300890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vilchen/pseuds/Vilchen
Summary: In retrospect, putting Yuuko's newest concoction among the other ingredients might've been a mistake. Now Yuuri's got an army of cursed cream puffs pounding on the door, his phone is dying and he might just have to eat himself out of there.Wonderful.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Series: Sweetie pie, we will die [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1535588
Comments: 13
Kudos: 86
Collections: Yuri!!! on Ice Spooky Week 2019





	Sweet, sweet terror

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick heads up! This story is set in the same universe as 'Sweetie pie, you will die', but in between these two there's a real story with a plot that I have yet to write, so enjoy puzzling together the scattered pieces of my imagination!

In retrospect, putting Yuuko’s newest concoction among the other ingredients might’ve been a mistake. Yuuri must’ve poured it into the cream puff batter earlier this morning when he was still drowsy and relied on habit rather than conscious decision, and he didn’t notice any difference until after they came out of the oven, a perfect golden brown color with just enough cream in the middle and a row of pointy white... teeth?

Suddenly one of them jumps off the counter, snapping after Yuuri’s fingers like a vicious piranha frothing with banana cream. Yuuri snatches his hand away and simultaneously takes aim with the spatula he was holding—just as the cream puff leaps towards him, Yuuri strikes with his spatula and sends it flying across the kitchen.

“Oh my god.”

Because just as the pastry hits the wall, the other 149 puff pastries on the trays simultaneously turn to look at him.

“_Shiiiit—_“

Yuuri makes a mad dash for the door as the cream puffs leap on him, snarling, growling and snapping furiously at him. He fights some off with his spatula; three meet their demise squashed under a rolling pin Yuuri snatches from a drawer, but there’s too many of them to fight off. They’re on his clothes, in his hair—there’s no way he’ll make it to the door out. Instead he books it to the tiny supplies closet in the corner. He shuts the door behind him and hears what sounds like aggressive tennis balls pummeling the door and rattling it from the force of their collision.

Yuuri falls back against the door and pants for breath. There’s only just enough room for him, a broom, a bucket and two mops as long as he stands with one foot in the bucket. He can hear the cream puffs wrecking the kitchen, pots, pans and bowls crash to the floor. They’re probably smearing cream everywhere, the little bastards.

The battery on his phone is of course low and probably won’t last long, so Yuuri makes a quick decision to call Phichit who has the keys to lock himself in and has seen him in weirder situations—he probably won’t tease him more for this than anything else he’s done.

“What’s up?” Phichit says after he finally picks up.

“I fucked up. Somehow I messed up the batter for the cream puffs and suddenly they had teeth and started chasing me and I panicked so I hid inside the supplies closet and now I’m scared to go out because there are at least 140 angry, hungry puffs out there and I don’t wanna die—” Yuuri says and takes a big breath, realization dawning on him like a bucket of cold water, “—and you’re in Chicago on that seminar, I forgot...”

Yuuri sighs into his hand and thumps his head back to the door. The sound spurs some of the cream puffs into action again, and Yuuri flinches when another bowl crashes to the floor.

“Uh-huh. Why not call that leech boyfriend of yours? I’m sure he’d be happy to come save you.”

“He’s not a leech,” Yuuri protests, although weakly. He’s not in the mood to get his hands dirty with the dispute between Phichit and Victor at the moment.

“And he’s been really busy with work lately, I’ve barely seen him. And I don’t need to be saved, I can take care of myself,” he says, pointedly ignoring the fact that he called Phichit to come save him exactly because he can’t take care of himself. But that’s different. Yuuri won’t be a damsel in distress all the time, hanging around in his tower and waiting for his big, strong vampire boyfriend to rescue him. 

Supernatural or not, Yuuri is a _capable human being. _(Most of the time.)

“Maybe the effects will wear off? You can wait until they fall asleep or something,” Phichit suggests. There’s a muffled voice from the other end of the line, a sigh from Phichit, and then in an apologetic voice:

"Sorry, I have to head out again now. Send me a text once you get out of there!"

Yuuri makes a weak sound of protest, but it’s too late. The line beeps and he is once again stuck alone in a supply closet with a small army of demonic pastries waiting with bated breath for him to go outside and die.

He scrolls through the rest of his contacts, thumb hovering over Victor's name until the stubborn voice in the back of his mind tells him to move on. Minako is the most sensible choice, but she’s been up all night preparing the shop and looks even more tired than usual lately—and although Phichit might show him mercy, she’d never let him live it down.

Yuri Plisetsky is a big, fat **_no, _**Yuuri likes his dignity whole and intact, thank you very much. Yuri could get the job done, but he'd probably bitch all the while and demand a lifetime's supply of muffins as compensation for his services, and Yuuri does not want to spend the rest of his mortal life baking for sulky vampire teens.

His phone vibrates; it’s so sudden he almost drops it. _Yuuko _the caller ID says, and Yuuri almost drops the phone again in his haste to push the answer button.

"Moshi, mosh!" She chirps on the other end, "You know that potion I left with you last night? It turns out I got the vials mixed up, so don’t use it for anything! I don’t know how strong it is yet, but it’s one of Minami's... attempts, and you know how those usually turn out."

Minami is the young, energetic witch in Yuuko's coven who doesn’t always take the time to read the instructions properly. Yuuri should have recognized it, really; Minami's creations are all rather... _teeth-y_.

"Well... about that."

"Oh no."

"I guess you can say my cream puffs came out a little more aggressive than normal?"

"I’m so sorry."

"It’s fine, Yuu-chan," he says. "I’m just glad you know how to fix it."

Silence.

"Yuu-chan... You _do _know how to fix it, right? I need these cream puffs ready in three hours for this massive order, please don’t tell me—"

"I’m really sorry, Yuuri," she says. "Minami is the only one who knows what he put in there and how to erase the effects. There’s this coven meeting in ten minutes I have to be at, but I swear I’ll chase him down the second I’m out of there! Just stay safe in case it wears off over time."

Yuuri has known Yuuko long enough to recognize what that downturn of her voice means—_she has no faith that the effects will wear off naturally._

"Okay," he says numbly, mind too caught up on the horrible scenario in his mind in which he has to _eat himself out of there_ to protest and demand the full on rescue operation he deserves. 

"Great, see you soon—don’t die please, loads of paperwork, you know how it is—bye, bye!"

Yuuri stares blankly at his phone screen. Something crashes to the floor outside—it sounds like the muffin tray he forgot to put away this morning. The sound is followed by what sounds like an army of bats screaming for blood.

He’s totally gonna die.

* * *

After what feels like a week of his life but is actually just forty five minutes of solitude, Yuuri decides that Death can stuff it and gets to work on making a weapon out of whatever he can find in there with him. He’s only a couple of steps away from the exit leading to sweet, sweet freedom, and a quick search reveals that he actually has _two _buckets instead of one, and _this changes things._

A plan forms in his mind. A crazy, unrealistic plan that will most likely end in bodily harm, but its end goal is the exit and Yuuri's patience took his sensibility along with it on its way out, so there’s really no stopping him.

To test his luck, he opens the door just a smudge hoping against hope that the puffs will have settled down and fallen asleep. When there’s no reaction, he shoves the door open a little further, just enough to peek out. ‘A little further’ appears to be too much however, and the little assholes immediately turn on him like a synchronized hive of wasps.

Yuuri snaps the door shut again.

He spins around wildly in search of something... something to throw— There! He strips the two mops of their washing cloths and grabs both buckets. He’s more prepared this time and as soon as the door gap is wide enough, he thrusts the bucket out bottom up and slams the door shut. With his ear pressed to the door he can hear the cream puffs screech and jump around at the sudden activity. Fifteen minutes passes before they calm down enough for Yuuri to deem it safe to move onto phase two.

With the bucket on one arm and armed with the broom in the other, Yuuri is ready for war. 

The cream puffs have learned by now to watch the door; they immediately turn towards him, poised and ready to strike at any moment. Yuuri fishes the first of two mop cloths out of the bucket and throws it <strike>to hel</strike>l as far away as he can. The cream puffs—which were practically vibrating in their spots—leap after it like seals after a dead fish, and Yuuri seizes the moment to jump onto the bucket he’d already left out there.

About a quarter of the puffs are still close enough to turn on him and leap, but he keeps them at bay with the broom as he wobbles dangerously on the bucket. The ones who chased the mop cloth are already on their way back—Yuuri throws the other one in hope of luring them away, but only a few of them fall for the same trick twice.

He throws the other bucket on the floor a bit too hard, so it skids away to a distance that is still manageable, but more... risky. A quick glance around him confirms that he’s about to be assaulted by an army of devilish cream puffs, frothing at the mouth with rich banana cream. As Yuuri sees it, there are two options: take a leap of faith and hope he doesn’t get eaten alive by his own creations, or; get eaten alive by his own creations.

He takes the leap.

It’s a close call, but thanks to a strategic sweep of his broom, whatever’s left of his flexibility, and a good portion of pure, dumbass luck, Yuuri makes it to the exit in two long strides. He tears the door open and slams it shut behind him. 

With his back to the door and the frantic beat of his heart booming in his chest, Yuuri barely notices that his legs stop functioning and he slides down to the floor.

It worked. His crazy, dumbass plan _actually worked._

Laughter bubbles from him, loud and hysterical _because how is this his life? _His boyfriend is a vampire, his childhood friend a witch, and somehow it doesn’t drive him insane. Why’s that? His own pastries wanted to eat him, but here he is. Uneaten.

Damsel in distress _his ass._

Yuuri would’ve sat there for awhile longer if it weren’t for a knock on the glass of the bakery door. He looks up, confused because he knows he turned the sign closed—

Just outside the bakery door, wrapped in a coat Yuuri knows to be designer and with two steaming cups of coffee from that ridiculously expensive coffee shop down the street, stands Victor. When Yuuri peeks up from behind the counter, Victor beams and lifts the coffees a little higher.

Yuuri scurries off the floor to open the door and pulls Victor in by the scarf around his neck, shutting the door closed behind him.

Victor’s smile fades a little and his eyebrows raise as he looks Yuuri up and down. He touches a finger to Yuuri’s cheek and it comes away covered in cream. Yuuri stares blankly at him as Victor pops the finger in his mouth and hums.

“Banana?” he asks, beaming again as he tries to steal some more from Yuuri’s face. It’s become a game of sorts, for Victor to taste and try to guess what the faint hints of flavors are on his tongue—he’s lucky to have any sense of taste at all with his age. Yuuri ducks away from his greedy fingers and grabs him by the shoulders.

“Victor. What are you doing here?”

Victor tilts his head sadly to one side, and Yuuri abruptly remembers that they haven’t really seen each other for at least two weeks. Yuuri has missed him quite a lot actually, but between the baking, rouge pastries and crazy plans, it just slipped his mind. He leaves a quick peck on Victor's cheek in apology and moves closer in a loose embrace. Victor's chin rests on the crown of his head, and the low timbre of his voice brushes lovingly last his ear.

“I finally got some time off, so I thought maybe I could hang around until you finished that big delivery order and we could head back to mine?”

Delivery order? What delivery— 

“_Shit!_”

Yuuri smothers his face in Victor’s coat and groans. The big delivery order of 150 cream puffs that someone’s coming to pick up in—he sneaks a glance at Victor’s wrist watch—approximately two hours. The same order that’s currently wreaking havoc in his kitchen.

Yuuri bites his lip and closes his eyes for moment. He has the ingredients to make another batch, and there’s some leftover cream in the fridge—it’ll be a stretch, but he can make it if only he finds a way to clear out the kitchen. A hand touches his and loosens his tight grip around the apron; Victor smiles softly at him as he entwines their fingers.

“How can I help?”

* * *

“You’re lucky I’m the one who’s usually on clean up duty with Minami,” Mila says as she breezes past them and starts unloading her bag on the counter. Six spray bottles, a plastic container filled with different herbs, a mortar and a pestle, dried mushrooms, coal, scissors, a big feather and anything else a young witch on the move might need spills out of her purse. A standard space wrap curse, probably.

Yuuri recognizes some of the herbs and mushrooms from his mother’s kitchen, but the progress is lost on him as Mila cuts, crushes and mixes the ingredients in a hurry. Yuuko once told him that a neutralizing potion should—if possible—always be made by the witch who threw the curse in the first place, or by someone with experience handling that particular witch, which is why clean up witches are held in such high regard among their covens.

Victor must have very good connections.

“Alrighty, here, take two each— Now, try not to spray each other, that’ll make things difficult for me later. Loads of paperwork, yadda yadda, you know the drill.”

Armed with dishwashing gloves, diving goggles and two spray bottles each, they prepare to move in. Yuuri and Victor get in position right in front of the door while Mila stays to the side with her hand on the handle.

“Ready?” Victor asks. He looks unfairly beautiful with his ridiculous gloves and the goggles pressing his hair to his forehead. How typical.

“As I’ll ever be,” Yuuri responds. The cream puffs have already noticed that something’s happening; they’re bumping into the door with increasing force and shrieking louder than before.

“On the count of three...”

“One...“

“Two...“

“Three—“

Mila tears the door open and they’re immediately attacked by a swarm of cream puffs snarling like feral chihuahuas. Yuuri sprays desperately at the first wave of them, a mad grin forming as they fall melting to the ground like dropped scoops of ice cream. Next to him, Victor and Mila move forward into the kitchen, taking one side each while Yuuri handles the front.

Whose eating who now, huh?

Soon enough the battle is over and the floors are covered in the gooey, doughy remains of the cream puffs, spread in an even layer all across the kitchen. It’s gonna be a bitch to clean up.

Victor—amazing, beautiful Victor who Yuuri is going to kiss senseless once this is over—rolls his shirtsleeves up to his elbows and grabs a mop. Yuuri allows himself thirty seconds to swoon, because _wow_.

Mila clears her throat and looks knowingly at him. “What now?” She asks.

“—Uhm, batter.. Yeah, I should make more of the batter! You get started on the cream, I left the recipe out for you—there, yeah, you see it—“

Yuuri grabs the dry ingredients and one of the surviving bowls, willing his mind away from Victor's forearms and into the recipe unless he wants another demonic batch. It would be meaningless to make a new batch if they’re too sloppy to sell, he reminds himself as he pipes the pastry batter onto the baking sheets, doing his best to make them all even in shape and size. He fills up five trays, shoves them all into the oven, sets the timer and goes to relieve Mila of her cream duties so she can help Victor with the clean up.

After forty minutes, the puffs are a beautiful, golden color, the kitchen looks somewhat clean, and it looks like they’ll have enough banana cream and melted chocolate for all of them.

They have an hour to assembly, decorate and ready the cream puffs for transport. Yuuri takes the lead and shows Victor how to cut them smoothly, then instructs Mila on how to keep the melted chocolate on the right temperature and how far to dip the top of the puffs, while he grabs the pastry bag filled with rich, fresh banana cream and the pre-made chocolate bat wings to decorate with.

They spend another sixty minutes decorating non-stop, but the finished product is surprisingly good. 150 cream puffs, ready for delivery to some lucky Halloween party with a generous budget. Yuuri knows he’ll get a very welcome bonus at the end of the year—as long as Minako never, ever, ever learns of this incident.

"Well, that was a bit of rush," Mila says, hands planted on her hips and smiling wide. "Let me know if you need some help around here. You know, I used to bake before—"

An arm sneaks itself around Yuuri's waist and pulls him back into a warm, broad chest. Fine strands of hair tickles his neck and Yuuri feels the shape of Victor's pout as he nuzzles into the side of his throat.

"Thanks for the help, Mila. I’d be in some serious trouble without you," he says and buries his fingers in Victor's hair to appease him.

"Nonsense! Call me any time!"

Once Mila packs up her stuff and leaves, Victor's vice like hold on him tightens and his pout disappears in favor of leaving small, cutesy pecks all over the side of his neck. Yuuri giggles and tears himself away, leading him by the hand back to the kitchen where he saved two of the extra cream puffs for them.

Victor gobbles up his own twice as fast as Yuuri, and then launches forward in an attempt to steal a bite from his boyfriend's cream puff that mostly ends in failure. Yuuri laughs and leans forward to kiss the side of his mouth, licking away the traces of cream on Victor's skin while he’s at it.

"Banana?" Victor asks.

Yuuri smiles, "Banana."

**Author's Note:**

> On that last bit of conversation:  
My take on vampirism is that they're just slowly rotting corpses, so the older they get, the more 'vampire' traits they acquire. For an example, Yakov is a really old vampire, so his sense of taste is completely nonexistent except when it comes to blood; Victor is quite a bit younger, so he can still taste flavors as long as they aren't too faint; and Yuri who's the youngest of the three can still taste everything normally and constantly stuffs his face with treats from the bakery to rub it into Victor's face. 
> 
> Yuuri and Victor have a game in which Victor tastes the pastries and tries to discern the flavors, and Yuuri will either confirm or deny it.
> 
> Thank you for reading and feel free to yell(gently) at me in the comments or on Tumblr as vilchen!


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